


Warmth of Home

by gr8escap, HeyBoy



Category: Captain America, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Sam Wilson - Fandom
Genre: Bubble Bath, Captain America Sam Wilson, Hot Chocolate, Injury, M/M, Old Man Steve Rogers, POV Sam Wilson, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship, friendly bantering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 18:45:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20840246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gr8escap/pseuds/gr8escap, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeyBoy/pseuds/HeyBoy
Summary: It’s never easy the first weeks of a new job. This one should be at least familiar, he’d fought alongside Cap - Steve - for several years, but Being Captain America just might be harder than (and this is tough to admit) being Cap’s partner. After the snap, and after Thanos, Steve’s old, Bucky’s his — what? What is the long-haired, greasy centenarian to Sam anyway?





	Warmth of Home

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my artist [HeyBoyDraws](https://heyboydraws.tumblr.com/) for their patience and their friendliness in addition to sharing the beautiful work you'll see here.

A metallic sensation flooded Sam’s mouth, mingling with the taste of dirt and asphalt granules. He pulled himself to his knees, spitting out the all too familiar Metropolitan Blend. He stared at the red and black mixture until a shadow entered his line of vision. An offer of a helping hand. Sam rolled his eyes, rocking back onto his calves, and accepted Barnes’ aid.

“You barely managed to slow them down. Still, not bad, bet you wish you had your wings right now though.”

“Shut up.” Sam winced and swiped the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “You weren’t any help, what, did you decide to stop for coffee first?”

“I guess I’m used to Captain America getting shit done.” Bucky smirked, hoisting Sam’s arm over his shoulder, easing the pressure on Sam’s bleeding leg.

Sam slumped against Barnes once the fool had a good enough grasp. His leg was screaming, another bullet? Or another gash? He didn’t bother looking. It was a job hazard. “Hey, did Steve ever tell you who I should talk to about Hazard Pay?”

“Funny.” Bucky snorted. “You thought this was a paying gig?”

Sam added that to the reasons this Captain America thing might not be so awesome. “You mean I’m doing this for fun?”

“You do know who your predecessor was, right?” This time it was more of a chuckle than a snort. Sam furrowed his brow and hobbled alongside his  escort.

“What do you think he’s doing right now?”

“Either feeding the pigeons or he’s taken the Nano Mask off while we’re out doing the dirty work and he’s trollin’ for ass.”

Sam didn’t want to laugh, his ribs might just kill him for it, but it was funny to think that Steve was putting them on with technology and a damn good impression of somebody with chill. “You think it’s a put-on?”

He’s a punk. I don’t put anything past him.”

Neither of them had talked, to each other at least, or at all for Sam’s part, about how “old Steve” made them feel. Perhaps it could be a topic they’d find some common ground. But at what cost?

Silence (aside from Sam’s grumbling as he eased himself into the car) was their only companion for the drive. Sam watched Barnes’ through the veil of his lashes. The man was good at masking his own feelings. When he was guarded, the only way to read him was to get a good look into his eyes to catch any flicker of emotion. Funny how he used to think the solution to all of the problem was taking this guy out. The man who’d risked his own safety and life to save Sam’s at least a dozen times by now.

The car stopped and Barnes turned the key before Sam even realized they were home. “I didn’t say it earlier and I should have. Thanks for the assist.”

“It was that  or stop for coffee. By the way, we’re out of coffee.”

“ You  might be out in  your kitchen, but —”

“You can stop right there. You’re out too.”

“Personal space, man. What the hell?”

“Talk to Pops. He’s the one who brewed the last batch.”

“I guess it’s still elder abuse if I hit a super soldier?”

“When he looks like that, yeah, I’m afraid it is.”

“I was talking about you.”

Barnes was out of the car without any indication that the comment struck his ears let alone a nerve. Sam struggled with the door handle, noting another injury that had been dwarfed by rib and leg pain. “Thanks a lot Steve,” he muttered as the door opened. The honor of the shield was becoming less and less appealing.

“You need me to carry you too?”

“Yeah, please do. You owe me that much.”

“Right, because I cleaned up after you and got called on being late.” Bucky swept Sam off his feet as soon as he was out of the car. “Let’s just remember who owes whom.” 

“Put me down, you idiot. I was joking. Wait, you don’t have a sense of humor, you don’t know what  joking is.”

Sam grumbled at being ignored, but his complaints bounced off the man like jokes, insults, and bullets seemed to. He didn’t know if he should be embarrassed at the position he was in or pleased. He’d been too big to carry since forever, flying was the closest thing to the way being carried made him feel. It was the weightless sensation, definitely not the rigid metal arm bracing his back or the super soldier strength rendering the task effortless. The jerk could have the decency to puff a breath or break a sweat.

Maybe Sam should stop thinking now.

The door was pulled open from inside, and Steve, complete with old-man face, old man - with deep concern - face, was on the other side. He was going to have to get back at Barnes for putting the Photostatic Veil idea in his head.

“Relax, Pops -” Bucky must have noticed the deep concern as well. “ - He’s just being dramatic.”

“He can speak for himself and he says  Put me down you idiot. ” Sam pushed against Bucky’s shoulder to emphasize his displeasure. The smug, self-satisfied looks on both their faces added to the physical pain that was making itself known in various lesser wounds. “I just need to soak in the tub.”

With a swiftness that belied his age, Steve was off toward the bathroom, presumably to draw the bathwater. Sam gave up. He rested his forehead on Bucky’s shoulder and was that a squeeze of reassurance or was the oaf threatening to do as commanded and drop him? His thoughts were loud in his head, he closed his eyes to shut them out with the bonus of blocking the light that was a bit too bright.

“I’m serious, Barnes, put me down. Do I have to break out the  please ?”

“Your leg won’t hold you,” Bucky replied bluntly. He did move to lower Sam’s legs, tightening his hold around Sam’s back just enough to support him, which was also enough to make Sam want to bite through his lip to keep from screaming.

Firmly grounded on one leg, Sam leaned against Bucky as they hobbled toward the bathroom door.

* * *

Sam sank into the hot, fragrant bath. The faint lavender scent was an instant relaxer. He shut out all thoughts of the details of the fight in favor of babying his wounds.

The chaos and — if he were in a better mood — humor of Steve and Bucky bickering over the cleaning of his wounds had exhausted him. He wasn’t quite sure if he was dreaming all of this anyway. Turning to dust couldn’t really happen? This was just an elaborate nightmare inside an otherwise decent dream. Dream-voices outside the dream-door were distorted but he thought he heard Steve and Barnes; or was that Steve? The voice he was questioning sounded like Steve, only softer. They were talking about him.

Dream-Sam’s interest was piqued.

“Maybe he should take the wings next time,” Bucky said. Sam was positive there was more than just a hint of laughter beneath the words.

“Hopefully the next incident will be after they’ve been upgraded and not while we’re waiting on the tech team.

“Thought you’d be used to waiting. All those years you spent with the Pony Express.”

Sam laughed aloud at Bucky’s taunt, startling himself out of his near-dream state. The abrupt and forgetful movement caused a wince-worthy twinge in his shoulder muscle. Nope, not a dream then. How  did Steve throw and catch that damned shield anyway? “Oh yeah,” Sam said aloud. “Super serum.”

The water was fast losing its heat and getting out of the tub wouldn’t get any easier when it chilled. Sam had barely moved when the knock sounded on the door. Solid and sharp, not meaty, meaning Barnes was on the other side.

“You goin’ for gold in the 1500 freestyle? Or was that a belly-flop splash I heard?”

“Hey,” Sam called back. “At least I know what a bath is for.”

“You taking up residence or did you need help?”

“Send Pops in, I don’t trust you.” It was a lie, but then he couldn’t start letting Barnes in on his secrets.

“He’ll break a hip, you’re stuck with me. I’m coming in.”

Sam pulled the stopper, letting the water drain, and tried not to think about the discomfort about to unfold. Not just the pain, he’d dealt with that a lot before Captain America and Assassin Disaster came into his life, and even more afterward. But the discomfort of Being Seen — of being exposed — to this man in particular. Being carried up the stairs to their shared home had been embarrassing enough for one day, perhaps one lifetime if Barnes had any indication at all of Sam’s thoughts at the time. Thank god one of his super-powers wasn’t like Wanda’s — his mind was his own private carousel of thoughts and whims.

Sam wouldn’t waste time worrying about why any of that was a thing. He’s just a coworker. Just a friend. Just a house mate.

The door opened before Sam could expound on the list that was making him even more anxious than just the prospect of the discomfort of his state of undress. He resisted the urge to be coy. It would look ridiculous and would likely extend the interaction in a very undesirable manner.

Barnes appeared to be indifferent as he held out his hand. He was all business, clasping Sam’s wrist. Muscles Sam had forgotten existed screamed as the pair got him to his feet. Sam took the thick dryer-warmed towel that was offered, burying his face in the clean scent, drying off his face, neck, and shoulders before wrapping the towel around his waist.

He curled his toes into the plush bath mat taking another mental inventory of his pains and injuries.

“You okay?” No snark, only kindness. Barnes was going to have to stop that. Sam couldn’t handle kindness from him. It was too easy to be suckered by this man, if Steve was any indication.

“I’ll live. Just gotta build callouses on every surface of my body.” Sam braced himself with one hand on Bucky’s arm and worked the sweat pants over his damp legs. They were warm too, must have been tossed in the dryer with the towel. “Nice touch, warm clothes and towel.”

“I know a few things about battered bodies.” Barnes shrugged, but there was a tug of a smile on his whisker-covered face.

Sam was grateful for the injuries if only to have an excuse for his slight stumble when that look overwhelmed him. The grasp on his waist tightened just enough to keep Sam upright, with the slightest twinge which was dwarfed by the heat that rushed to Sam’s face and neck, he wouldn’t even spare a thought for other parts affected. Ignoring the tenting of his sweatpants was not as easy as Sam could wish it could be.

It seemed — as they made their way out of the bathroom and Barnes stepped aside letting Sam move on his own — that he’d worried for nothing. Stepping out into the main living area of Steve’s floor of the house, Sam was engulfed by warmth and a soothing spicy aroma. The fire crackled in the fireplace, its reflection flickering on the tile hearth, and a steaming mug sat next to the best chair in the house. He wasn’t sure if it was Steve’s time away or Bucky’s stint in Wakanda, but their home always seemed to have just the right aroma for whatever mood.

Funny Sam only noticed that now.

He looked from Barnes to Steve and back at the chair. “What? Am I dying?”

The smile that crossed Steve’s weathered face was so familiar. Painfully familiar and yet seemed foreign buried in the lines on the face of the universe’s hero. “You’re just fine, Sam.”

“I’m not sure I believe you,” Sam said. He was stalling. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever get up again if he sat down. No, he didn’t really believe he was as bad off as all that, but he knew his muscles were going to rebel once it was time to move from the chair.

“Listen,” Barnes said. “If you don’t sit in  Pops’  chair, I will. You know the old man doesn’t give it up willingly.”

“Hey,” Steve protested. “You shouldn’t talk that way about your elders.”

“Fuck Steve,” Sam said. “Don’t make me laugh.”

Steve graced him with another smile, which dug into his gut. He wasn’t used to this, wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to it. Sam eased into the plush easy chair. He really wanted more time to talk to Barnes about the idea of the photostatic veil. No, what he really wanted was for the stupid idea to be true. A quick twitch beneath Barnes’ smile indicated he wished the same.

“I made cocoa,” Steve offered. He was so much more like a grandfather now, having lived his life and become exactly that.

“Perfect,” Sam replied. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“So, besides the beat-down, what else is bothering you?” His soothing, aged voice invited confession. One he’d nearly given a hundred times since Steve showed up looking more like Mr. Rogers than Steve Rogers.

“That’s enough, isn’t it?” Sam asked. Knowing from the glint in barely faded blue eyes with hints of green that he wasn’t getting off so easy this time. He glanced at Barnes for help. He must have looked pitiful, for the man to come to his aid. He hated it, owing him three times in one night.

“He’s bitter that you didn’t warn him about the lack of pay.”

Steve laughed. He did that a lot these days. There was no photostatic veil. Just a happy man in a life well lived.

Barnes seemed to have the same opinion, glancing covertly at Sam before smiling his own real smile. Sam nudged Barnes’ thigh when he sat on the arm of the chair next to his elbow. He was loitering awfully close.

Sam meant to be involved in the conversation. He sipped his cocoa, topped with clouds of tiny marshmallows, listened, and watched. His head drooped and jerked a couple of times, but he convinced himself he was awake.

“Maybe you shouldn’t go in solo, wait for Bucky and the team.”

Did he dream that? Steve couldn’t possibly be saying those words, but no, if he were awake for this discussion, those were definitely a string of words that came from Steve Rogers. Maybe the age did set well on him after all.

Barnes didn’t seem as easily convinced, he snorted, spilling his own drink down his front as he did. “You just said that? You, Steve? Steven Grant  Too dumb not to run away from a fight Rogers?”

“You’re not being fair, Buck. Sam isn’t enhanced.”

“Further proving my point. Going in and doing that without consulting anybody.”

Sam huffed, an outright laugh would have been a really bad idea. Barnes was poking the bear that was Rogers, but they’d been at this since before all of history happened. He was also right. Clearly Sam was as surprised by the advice as Barnes had been. He felt a shift on the chair’s arm. He opened one eye to see Barnes hovering over him.

“What do you want?”

“You made a weird sound, I thought you were dead.” The softness of Barnes’ features belied the words. The corners of his mouth were in an upward position and there was a familiar glint in his eye, the one he always had when he was razzing Sam.

“Nah, just reacting to your stink. I was serious earlier, you should try a bath or shower, Barnes.” He was such a liar, the man’s particular odor was a very annoying weakness. Sam missed any reply from either other party, the heaviness of his lids was one combat in which he could concede defeat. 

He tried to get up, was going to do it, the overwhelming memory of being carried by Barnes too much to bear repeating. However, just like in the car, he looked up to see an offered arm, a knowing smile, and a face determined to accept no resistance. Sam gripped the muscled wrist, Barnes’ fingers wrapping firmly around his own shot through him like a bolt of electricity. Sam allowed himself to be pulled to his feet, and was relieved to be allowed to walk alongside Barnes instead of being swept to his bed bridal style. An image that increased the heat of his blush.

These flights of fancy were clearly a result of pain and an after-adrenaline crash. Obviously.

“Shouldn’t take those kinds of flights,” Sam muttered aloud, His embarrassment multiplied tenfold when the rising intonation of Barnes’ hum sounded too much like a muttered “hmm?”

“Delirious,” Sam answered. He peered across the room to his dear and clearly very amused friend. “Thank you, Steve, thanks for everything, I’m sorry, but I just can’t keep my eyes open, can we talk tomorrow?”

“You bet, Sam.” Steve’s soft, strong voice was definitely amused. It was also reassuring. Maybe getting Steve back as a whole different person wouldn’t be too bad. He seemed to have acquired a little bit of self-preservation. Maybe he could teach his two friends some of that.

“Come on, Cap.” Barnes gently steered him toward the guest room on their level, instead of making him take the flight up the stairs to his  birdhouse as Barnes loved to call it, that and  the nest.

Was that Steve chuckling behind them? He supposed if  Pops had seen so many things in his long life and could still be amused, he’d give the old coot a break. He’d absolutely find out what he thought was so funny; tomorrow.

“Thanks, Barnes,” Sam said in an effort to dismiss him at the door.

The hint was either missed or dismissed and Sam was ushered into the room and up to the side of the bed.

“ Bucky ,” Barnes insisted. “Sam, when will you stop calling me  Barnes ?”

Barnes’ arm rested at Sam’s waist and when he turned to face him they were practically in an embrace. He couldn’t think to answer. This was not cool. Dammit. He wasn’t supposed to be so overcome with  feelings that he couldn’t sass back. He tried to confront him, looking up to face him eye-to-eye, but his gaze got caught on the soft curve of the rosebud lips that were too pretty not to notice. There was a little glaze of cocoa on the edge of Barnes’ - Bucky’s - top lip. Sam licked his own lip and glanced up to meet steel blue eyes that were clearly watching the path of his tongue. Eyes framed by a fringe of thick, lush lashes. Must be the super serum, because Steve’s lashes were ridiculous too.

Sam’s sleepy, wistful thoughts were stalled by the soft roughness of Bucky’s hand that cupped his face tenderly. Not since Riley had Sam felt this butterfly sensation.

“I think I’m gonna kiss you,” Bucky warned. “You’ll have to call me  Bucky then.”

Sam tipped his chin up, the tiniest hint of a nod of assent. Sam felt warm again when Bucky pulled him closer, there was still a non-threatening and respectable distance between them, but there was no mistaking the intent to follow up on his warning.

The kiss was as gentle as anything Sam had ever experienced, it was also far too brief, but when Barn — Bucky — pulled away, there was a moment of hesitation and a look that promised more to come, before he stepped aside, waiting to offer aid if desired.

Sam was too tired to contemplate desire, though he was sure he would contemplate a lot of things once he hit dreamland.

“Bucky,” Sam said. “I want to thank you again. For everything you did, and everything you didn’t do. Just now.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow. Over coffee?”

“Only if you’re buyin’.”

Bucky stayed about three feet from the bed while Sam crawled between the sheets. “Night Sam.”

“Goodnight, Bucky.”


End file.
